


lying by your grace

by bottledbasil



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, and Leon, and elyan, are the Knights TM and Uther coexisting because i don't remember the canon timeline, but the latter two just get thrown against a tree so it's more like an honorable mention, i mean it's canon but like, if you squint there's Perwaine, just read the damn fic before i spoil it all lmao, oh there's also lancelot/gwen if you squint, or because i don't care about the canon timeline, technically gaius is also there, you'll never know - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledbasil/pseuds/bottledbasil
Summary: “You have a right to know your own soulmark, Arthur.” Merlin's facial features suddenly lit up. “The King forbade you from looking at it, yes? But what if I looked, and I told you what it was? Now you can truthfully tell your father that you never looked.”“That's a ridiculous idea, first of all, and..how do I know you won’t tell anyone?"Merlin blinked, and then he blinked again, as if blinking might somehow reveal to him that he had heard Arthur wrong.“You really think I would tell someone? Arthur, your trust means far more to me than any gossip or attention I might be able to garner by spreading it around.”“Why? Because I’m a prince and you don’t want—”“Don’t even finish that sentence, you moron. Your trust means the world to me because you’re my friend. You’ve always been my friend before you’ve been my Prince, which is probably quite terrible, actually, but you know that.”Everyone is born with a soulmark somewhere on their skin, an image that best represents the fundamentals of who their soulmate is. Normally it's an image of an object, but Arthur's, well...his is special.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 754





	lying by your grace

Merlin rolled over so he was laying flat on his back, looking up at where the fabric of the tent was being gently prodded by bobbing tree branches. Arthur was sitting up somewhere behind him, working on some paperwork or other by the candlelight. It was quite dumb, Merlin thought to himself, that on top of this long venture they were making Arthur _also_ had to write letters and sign documents and whatever else the relatively thick stack of parchments encompassed. It was especially dumb because Merlin was the one who was supposed to be keeping track of it all, cataloguing what the Prince had and hadn’t done and making sure it traveled to and from every place they stopped safe and sound. The party of knights (and one irritated manservant) were on their way back to Camelot after dealing with a raider problem on the northern border, and having finally reached the river that fed into the Darkling Woods Merlin figured they couldn’t be more than a few days out. The warlock was just glad that it truly had been a raider problem and nothing of the magic sort—based on how exhausted he was from hardly using any magic, he figured he would’ve been passed out all the way back to Camelot if he had actually had to do something. 

That was another annoying thing about Arthur’s endless paperwork—he and Merlin shared a tent, so really, the servant couldn’t go to sleep until the Prince extinguished his candle and went to sleep as well. So Merlin was stuck, listening to the rustle of papers and the scratch of a quill, wishing Arthur would just tuck in already. Maybe he could go bug Gwaine and Percival about sleeping in their tent instead. 

“It’s quite late, my Lord,” the warlock finally felt compelled to point out, shifting again so he was on his stomach facing the Prince. “Are you going to go to bed sometime soon?”

“Aw, missing your beauty sleep, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur taunted, but he began to collect up the scrolls he was currently looking over and set them to the side. “You didn’t have to fight off a bunch of raiders, so I don’t see why you’re so tired.”

“Dealing with your attitude is exhausting,” Merlin snickered in response, flipping onto his side and closing his eyes as Arthur blew the candle out. “Especially after ‘fighting off a bunch of raiders.’”

The Prince scoffed, laying down supinely next his manservant.

“Not impressed, are you?”

“There were like thirty of them in total, maybe. You didn’t even have to dismount, save for once.”

“Twice, actually, one of those times being to save _you_. Really, Merlin, I need to teach you how to wield a sword or something. Your incompetence is embarrassing.” 

The warlock rolled his eyes. His companion must have somehow seen it even in the darkness, because he poked Merlin with indignance before also turning onto his side. The servant poked him in the back in retaliation, and Arthur jolted a bit.

“Er, sorry, Sire,” Merlin apologized, quickly turning away from the Prince and mentally kicking himself for his idiocy. Arthur was very much someone who didn’t appreciate being touched in general, but more than that was the fact that he hated being touched on his back—at some point during his service to Arthur, Merlin had gleaned that the reasoning for this was because his soulmark was there, though he had never been allowed to see what it was. He understood that, of course, considering it was personal regardless but also Arthur was the bloody Prince of Camelot, but the warlock couldn’t help but be curious as to what was on the royal's back. 

Especially when he took into consideration his _own_ soulmark.

Arthur simply huffed before Merlin felt his shoulder being prodded again—no harm done.

“You’re so uptight, Merlin,” the Prince pointed out, and his manservant rolled over to face him again. “It doesn’t hurt, you know. It’s just—strange, I guess.” 

Well, this was new.

Merlin had learned a long time ago that trying to get Arthur to talk about his feelings was futile at best, so to have the Prince begin spewing things about his soulmark completely unprompted was definitely not where he had expected their conversation to go. 

The warlock bit back a snarky retort about how tired Arthur must be to be so talkative and tried to follow whatever the Prince’s train of thought was, ultimately landing on, “If I may ask, Arthur, have you found your soulmate yet?”

The Pendragon snorted.

“No,” he replied curtly. Silence hung between them for a moment, thick and heavy, before he once again decided to uncharacteristically elaborate. “I don’t think I ever will.”

“What makes you say that?” Merlin asked carefully. 

“I’m the Royal Heir. Even if I did find them, it wouldn’t matter.” 

“Fine, but that’s not the question I asked.” He sat up and peered at Arthur, raising an eyebrow.

His companion exhaled slowly, quite clearly contemplating something. 

“Well, I haven’t the slightest inkling as to who my soulmate might be,” he answered, seeming to choose each word with great caution. “So that definitely makes it complicated.”

“Then you just haven’t met her yet,” Merlin argued. “You really are quite the pessimist, Arthur.”

“It’s more difficult than that, _Mer_ lin. It’s not a matter of pessimism versus optimism.”

“Then what is it?”

“None of your business, is what it is,” the Prince suddenly snapped. “You’re very nosy for a servant, you know that? Most servants just wash their masters’ clothes and call it a day.” 

“You’re the one who brought it up to begin with,” Merlin replied, but he relented. “But, alright. I understand.” He laid back down, just in time for his heart to stop as Arthur began talking again.

“My turn to interrogate, then. Have you found yours?”

_I think I have, actually, but like you said, it’s definitely ‘complicated.’_

Merlin shook his head, but then realizing Arthur probably couldn’t see him he clarified, “I’m in the same boat as you, Sire, I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Really,” the Prince deadpanned in response. “You’re such a romantic, Merlin, and you know practically everyone in Camelot. I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

 _Shit_.

“I’m serious! I thought it was Guinevere, but that turned out to be wrong. Then I thought she was yours, actually, which was also wrong. Clearly, I’m not very good at this whole soulmates thing.”

“Who’s the pessimist now?”

“I didn’t say I would _never_ find mine, just that I’m not very good at looking. You’re not even giving it a try.”

Arthur went silent again, and Merlin worried he might have hit a nerve. He was about to apologize for being so crass when the other man spoke up.

“I don’t even know what my soulmark is. It’s quite hard to look when you don’t even know where to start.”

Dumbfounded, Merlin sat up again. 

“You— _what?!_ ”

“Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I’m surprised you’re surprised, quite honestly.”

“You mean you’ve never even peeked at it?”

“Uther forbade it as soon as I was old enough to comprehend words. So, no, I’ve never ‘peeked’ at it.”

“That’s...Arthur, that is absolutely ridiculous.” The manservant stood up and ducked out of the tent for a moment, returning with the candle relit. “You’re going to look. Right now.”

“Yes, let me just commit treason to fulfill your curiosity. Sounds exciting. Also, you don’t give the orders around here, I do.”

“Oh please, how is he even going to know you looked? You’ve seriously never tried?”

“Once, when I was a teenager and everyone was chattering about them. Uther didn’t like that much.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell if you don’t. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to—”

“Merlin, please.”

“No, _Arthur_ , you please. You have a right to know your own soulmark.” His facial features suddenly lit up as an idea came to his mind. “The King forbade _you_ from looking at it, yes? But what if I looked, and I told you what it was? Now you can truthfully tell your father that you never looked, and throw me under the chariot if need be.”

“First of all, I would never ‘throw you under the chariot.’ Who even says that? And—”

“ _I_ say that, and even if it’s not popular now it will catch on. Trust me.”

“ _And_ , how do I know you won’t tell anyone?”

Merlin blinked, and then he blinked again, as if blinking might somehow reveal to him that he had heard Arthur wrong.

“You really think I would tell someone? Arthur, your trust means far more to me than any gossip or attention I might be able to garner by spreading it around.”

“Why? Because I’m a prince and you don’t want—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, you moron. Your trust means the world to me because you’re my friend. You’ve always been my friend before you’ve been my Prince, which is probably quite terrible, actually, but you know that.”

Arthur snorted.

“Is that why you treat me with so little respect?” he asked, but Merlin could tell he had settled and was just teasing him.

“‘Little respect?’” the warlock returned. “I’ll show you ‘little respect’ next time you ask me to do literally anything. Now, do you want me to look or not?”

Another silence befell the pair but this time it was comfortable and warm, like the flame dancing atop the candlewick.

“...yes,” Arthur finally said, softly, sitting up so Merlin could lift up his shirt. The servant's hands trembled as he reached for the Prince’s tunic, realizing that depending on what he saw everything he thought about his own soulmark and destiny could be fundamentally altered. He was almost praying that he would see something like a rose, or feathers, or just anything that wouldn’t link Arthur to him. As much as Merlin had his own wants (oh how terribly hard he had fallen), Arthur could hardly be the Once and Future King and rule Albion beside a wonderful queen as he was meant to if his soulmate was a bloody _servingboy_.

Trying not to seem timid, Merlin tugged the fabric up to the Prince’s shoulders, not allowing himself to look until his whole back was exposed. His eyes flicked back down with trepidation and his jaw dropped at what he saw, a small gasp escaping his lips.

Arthur's soulmark was massive, larger than any Merlin had heard of; the very end of it wasn't even visible, being just barely tucked beneath the waist of the Prince's trousers. From there, it stretched up his spine and across his shoulder blades, curling so that its head rested just above its right wing.

Arthur's soulmark was a dragon.

A fucking _dragon_.

“Would you like to share what is so gasp-worthy?”

For the briefest moment, the warlock considered lying to Arthur’s face, saving them both the trouble and tricking the Prince into falling in love with some pretty girl like he was supposed to. But he couldn’t, because after all that talk about trust and friendship he couldn’t stomach it. He cared about Arthur too much to turn around and disrespect the intimate trust his friend held in him. 

“Seriously, Merlin, is it that ugly?”

“It’s a dragon, my Lord,” the warlock finally breathed out.

“Haha, very funny. What is it actually?”

Merlin didn’t answer.

“Merlin?” The Prince twisted his head around and found a very somber expression on his servant’s face, realizing that there wasn’t a trace of humor in his words. “A dragon. Huh. No wonder Uther didn’t want me to see it.” Merlin still didn’t respond, continuing to stare while simultaneously hoping Arthur couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating. He had asked for something that _wouldn't_ link the two of them and had gotten something that was painstakingly representative of himself instead, and he felt like his heart would explode out of his chest at any moment. Sharp, angry (hurt?) words undercut the warlock's anxious mental fumbling: “Well say something, dammit!”

“I’m sorry it’s just—I thought that soulmarks were supposed to be objects, you know? It’s—do you want to see it? It’s really something. A good something. I don’t think anything I say can really—”

“A _good_ something? Are you out of your _mind_ , Merlin?! You do know what this means, don’t you?”

“...no?” He actually knew quite a lot of things it could mean (he was certain of a few of them), but elected to not say any of them and see what Arthur would say instead, lest he expose something Arthur didn’t already know. 

“My soulmate has _magic_ ,” the Prince bit out, and Merlin felt stomach drop at how angry Arthur sounded. “My soulmate is a _sorcerer_. That’s bitterly ironic, and incredibly terrible. Definitely not good at all.”

“Having—having magic won’t change anything, you know,” the warlock tried, pulling Arthur’s tunic back down and smoothing it over with shaking hands. “Whoever she is, she’ll still love you, and you her. That’s—that’s how soulmates work.”

“And how is that fair? My lover is my enemy. Despicable.” 

“I never said it was fair. Life tends to not be. But quite frankly, I think you’re making a big deal.”

“Of course I’m making a bloody big deal! Magic is _outlawed_! I’m never going to find my soulmate, and if I do I’ll have to run them through.”

“You don’t have to _do_ anything, especially not run her through.”

“You do when your father is the King and you are the Crown Prince. Imagine having a magical soulmate in a kingdom where anyone with magic is a _criminal_ , per your _father’s_ order. Ha! You can’t! I am really, truly unlucky, huh? Your soulmark is probably an apple or something _normal_ , and that’s the only reason you’re so bloody calm about this. I never should have let you look. Maybe my father was right for once.”

“My soulmark is not a bloody fruit,” Merlin hissed back, blowing out the candle before Arthur could demand that he showed him his soulmark.

“Well what is it then? A daffodil? A cloud? A basket of bread?”

“You’re being such an ass!” the warlock snapped. “I’m sorry that you don’t get a picture perfect love story, Arthur, I really am, but I can’t do anything about it.” Merlin had chosen that over ‘It isn’t my fault,’ because it was entirely his fault, but it still felt like a lie. He _could_ do something about it, but gods forbid he ever did. He couldn’t ruin Arthur’s life like that (though, he had already done that, apparently, so what else did he have to lose?).

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“That’s because it doesn’t matter. You want to know so bad? Fine. It’s a rose and two feathers, so yeah, I guess it is pretty normal, but you know what? I’m gonna have a fuckall chance of finding him when I’m following you around, scrubbing your laundry and cleaning your horses and never having a damn moment of time to myself. Even now, when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’m acting like your bloody therapist. I don’t know how to be a therapist! I barely even know how to do your laundry!” Merlin stood up sharply, turning so Arthur couldn’t see how genuinely upset he was. “I’m going for a walk. Goodnight, Sire.”

He left no room for argument, briskly but quietly storming out of the tent in the hopes that he wouldn’t wake up those he hadn’t already woken up with his hushed yelling. A rose and two feathers? Really? What the hell does that even mean? For all the times Merlin had spent pondering his soulmate situation, he really should’ve come up with a more plausible fake soulmark. 

“Dumbass,” he muttered, not sure if he meant Arthur or himself, and ultimately let his feet carry him to the river nearby. He kicked off his boots and sunk his feet into the cool water, sighing softly as the currents chased each other over and between his toes.

Tomorrow was going to suck.

* * *

The sunlight shining through the tent felt like a death sentence, as it is wont to do when one hasn’t slept all night. What sleep Arthur had managed to steal from the Lady of the Night was fitful and restless, so he couldn’t even really count it as sleep. In all of his tossing and turning, he had cemented three things in his mind:

  1. His soulmate had magic.
  2. Merlin had defended magic to him, the son of the King who had outlawed it to begin with.
  3. Merlin was lying about not knowing the identity of his soulmate—he very clearly knew who “he” was.



all of which were troubling separately, but even more troubling when put in the context of each other.

Merlin had never come back in, but upon stumbling out of his tent in the morning the Prince had found his servant helping the knights pack up their things and load them onto the horses. He didn’t seem too well rested either, but Arthur knew better than to comment on it, instead silently falling in stride and helping with the morning’s preparations.

They ended up riding out earlier than usual, likely due to the lack of distracting banter that normally accompanied their travels. Arthur felt even more peculiar riding out in front without Merlin riding next to him, his servant having taken to riding more near the back with Percival and Gwaine, and although the Prince couldn’t hear much of what they were talking about damn was he jealous; Merlin always made journeys like this far less tedious, and Arthur had gone and made a muck of things by pushing people away like he always did. 

The Prince knew he had a problem with people. He also knew it likely had to do with his upbringing, what with Uther’s insistence on him keeping his distance from anyone and everyone, but that didn't stop him from blaming himself for his inability to form (and keep) meaningful connections. Arthur didn’t know if Uther's strange rules growing had been because he was a royal and therefore supposed to carry himself differently, or because his father wanted to limit the possibility that anyone other than him knew what his son’s soulmark was. As a consequence, Arthur had learned to shy away from any touch other than a stiff handshake, flinching even when Guinevere had used to rub his shoulders before she had found out Lancelot was her soulmate. More than that, it had manifested in an inability for him to open up to people, to talk about how he felt and listen to how others were feeling in kind, leaving all of his personal conversations stilted and awkward. 

But, in spite of all that, he didn’t particularly mind when Merlin’s hands brushed across his chest while flattening out the remaining wrinkles of the day’s tunic, or when he grabbed his arm as they frantically ran away from the kitchens with stolen pastries in hand, or even when he jabbed his soulmark. Talking candidly to his manservant wasn’t terrible either, despite struggling greatly to do it with anyone else. In fact, Arthur had found that he quite enjoyed the deep and long-winded conversations they often had on long journeys such as this. It all just felt so natural, so commonplace when Merlin did it, and a gut feeling told Arthur that that meant something.

Truth be told, it was a something that the Prince had been considering for a while. The way Gwen had explained how she felt around Lancelot versus how she felt around him was shockingly similar to how he felt around Merlin, which ended up being a good thing because the understanding made their breakup much less messy. But a dragon? Clearly his servant could be bitter, but he was no monster. He certainly wasn’t smart enough to have been using magic under Arthur’s nose all these years. Besides, how in the world did a rose and two feathers represent him, Camelot’s Royal Heir? He wasn’t delicate or flighty or fragile, though maybe he had a thorn or two. 

Suddenly his horse halted, and Arthur jolted out of his thoughts and held up his hand to signal for the rest of the party to pause, too. Llamrei didn’t often stop without cause, and the chattering of the knights quickly died away into nothing as their Prince scanned the surrounding forestry. Something was definitely wrong: he felt like he was being watched, and he wanted nothing more than to get out of there but he felt that moving wasn’t a smart decision either.

“Sire?” he heard Leon ask quietly.

“Hold,” Arthur said simply, and he twisted his upper body to look behind him. Inadvertently he made eye contact with Merlin, who seemed to share the exact same expression he did. That was never good.

Tentatively, the Prince squeezed his horse’s sides and the party began to slowly creep forward, still in silence. Everyone seemed to have picked up on Arthur’s concern and not taken it lightly, which likely he meant he was right in his assumptions. That was especially not good. 

“Arthur, look out!”

Suddenly Merlin’s horse was slamming into his, throwing him off and nearly landing him in the river. A flash of golden light surrounded the knights for a moment and an inbound creature slammed into it, roaring in anger as it recollected itself on the ground. The Prince scrambled to his feet, unsheathing his sword and watching in horror as the beast picked itself up and brought itself up to its full height. It shook its mane and released a low growl as it towered over the men, and from behind the thick fur a goat head bleated, and a snake hissed.

“Shit,” Arthur heard Merlin mutter, and he watched as his manservant dismounted his horse. “A chimera.”

“Brilliant, this is _exactly_ what I wanted to deal with today,” Gwaine groaned. The beast, apparently sharing this sentiment, lunged at the knight in question and he just barely managed to get out of the way. His horse bucked wildly, refusing any further instruction that wasn’t ‘run the hell away,’ and Gwaine leapt off as he unsheathed his sword. The rest of the knights followed suit, circling around the chimera at Arthur’s command. Snarling, the beast threw itself at the first person it saw, lion head snapping at Percival while its snake tail sprang at Lancelot. They were thrown into a frenzy of slashing and stabbing, landing hit after hit but finding none of them to be meaningful. The chimera would just shrug them off and swat a massive claw at whoever had punctured it, roaring and hissing and bleating in anger.

Merlin watched all of this from by the river, head spinning as he tried to figure out what to do. He didn’t have a sword, or a dagger, or a weapon of any kind, and he couldn’t deprive any of the knights of theirs, but he needed something sharp and painful to enchant—it was the only way the chimera was going to even relent in its attacks, let alone be killed. Without a magical poison, it was just going to heal again and again.

Whatever he did, he needed to do it quickly. Watching Elyan get slammed into a tree and fall barely conscious was enough for him to decide, fuck it, I’ll make it up as I go. He threw himself into the fray and yanked on the beast’s snake tail, nearly getting bit and causing the creature to swivel around to face him with an infuriated roar.

“ _Merlin?!_ " That sounded like Arthur, and the blatant shock in his voice would've made Merlin laugh if he hadn't been preoccupied with trying not to die. "What the hell are you—”

“Lancelot," the warlock called, "throw your sword at the snake in three...two…”

The beast lunged at Merlin and he screamed “NOW” as he slid beneath its stomach and popped out the other side, snatching the knight’s sword from the air as he jumped to his feet. He gave Lancelot a look that said, ‘Thank you immensely, now do something else ridiculous so everyone looks away and I can do magic,’ to which his friend responded with a look of, ‘You already did magic like five minutes ago, if they don’t know by now they never will.’ The warlock sighed, knowing he was right, but still let the chimera’s return to attacking provide him at least some cover as he smoothed his hand over the blade and softly spoke the words, “ _Bregdan anweald gafeluc_.” His eyes flashed gold as the blade flashed blue, accepting the powerful magic he had imbued into it. Rolling out from the tree he had ducked behind, he also took a moment to press his palm to Elyan’s forehead and quietly chant a healing spell before once again joining the fight against the chimera. 

Lancelot had ended up with another sword somehow, so Merlin no longer felt bad about taking his. He could feel Arthur glaring at him as he advanced on their towering attacker, and he had the sneaking suspicion that the Prince had seen everything and was coming to several very unwanted conclusions but he attempted to ignore the implications of that as he slashed at the beast’s...ankle? He hadn’t even made contact but the creature whipped about to face him anyway, spitting and hissing with a newfound violence. The knights tried to use its singular focus as leverage but were repeatedly flung off as the massive beast slowly advanced on the warlock, each man hitting the ground solidly and staying there. Merlin snorted.

“I forgot how much you lot like magic,” he said under his breath, slowly backing up to maintain a safe distance while he caught his breath. Magical creatures always seemed to hone in on Merlin, which made perfect sense given that he was magic itself but was also incredibly _annoying_. He didn’t have the energy for this, especially given that he was doing it alone because the knights were incapacitated for the moment. “Have you ever considered just pissing off? It’s really nice you kno—aACK!”

The chimera shoved Merlin to the ground, and the only thing keeping its claws from the warlock’s chest was the enchanted sword that he barely had the strength to hold up. “I’ll take that as a no, then,” he managed to wheeze, grunting from the effort and letting out a yell as the beast began to press harder, fangs mere inches from his face. He tried in vain to angle the sword so he could plunge it into the chimera’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut as he let magic flow through him unbridled in the hopes that it would give him the extra strength he needed to throw the creature off. Saliva from the beast’s lion head dripped down its jowls and onto the hilt of Lancelot’s sword as it roared, causing Merlin’s hand to slip as he tried to regain traction. Dagger-like talons plunged into his chest with a sickening _squelch_ and he screeched in pain, tears slipping down his cheeks as his whole body began to burn. He could feel the ragged claws searching for his heart, the source of his magic, wanting to take it for its own. Rapidly, he became unable to hear himself scream, ears feeling like they were stuffed with cotton and any sound he might’ve been able to hear through them drowned out by a new, incessant ringing. Reflexively, magic shot through Merlin and into the chimera, stunning it enough to retract and stumble backwards. The warlock’s eyes shot open and he took a sharp half-breath, choking on blood and realizing that now was his chance if he could just _get up!_

Slowly, achingly, Merlin stood upright, magic pulsing through him like adrenaline. It felt like his only pulse, anything else emptying through the gashes in his chest that his magic was desperately trying to hold together. The earth trembled beneath his feet, disorienting the chimera and each of the knights that had been trying to recollect themselves. He knew his eyes were burning gold and he didn’t even care—he was probably going to die anyway. Would Arthur get a new soulmate if he died? He hoped so. Then maybe this wouldn’t all be for naught; the Prince certainly deserved better than him.

Merlin and the chimera slowly circled about the now devastated area, the warlock trying to catch his breath enough to strike and the creature unable to get a good enough footing for an attack due to the trembling ground. At the same moment Merlin realized he was never going to catch his breath, the beast realized the ground was never going to stop shaking, and they collided in mid-air. The warlock thrust the enchanted sword up into the chimera’s chest, yanking it down and out as the beast let out a horrific shriek. It landed on top of Merlin, struggling for a few moments before finding itself unable to move any further as it bled out. The warlock let out a heavy, painful sigh and closed his eyes, feeling his magic retreat as he no longer needed it to hold himself up. Quite frankly, he felt disgusting, covered in both his blood and this random beast’s, but at least his magic had been enough. He could die with that.

A heavy weight was lifted off of his chest as the knights presumably hauled away the chimera, and he felt a cloak wrap around the remaining tatters of his shirt. Someone reached under his arms and hauled him up from the ground, and he mumbled something through his bloodstained lips about how he had been very comfortable on the ground, thank you, before passing out.

* * *

Part of the reason Arthur despised going to the northern border so much was that there were very few settlements along the way, due to the bitterness of the winters and the scarcity of resources the further one went north from the citadel. That meant very few inns where he could sleep on a real bed near the warmth of a fire, and very few bars where he could destress with his men. Normally it was a matter of vanity, but now, riding at breakneck speed back towards the main city of Camelot, it was a matter of the fact that the closest physician was Gaius and if the Prince wanted Merlin to live he would have to make a multiple day trip in one night. Llamrei clearly didn’t appreciate carrying the both of them, especially not at this speed, but somehow also seemed to understand the gravity of the situation because she never slowed. 

“Sweet Jesus, I’m losing my mind,” Arthur panted, shaking his head a little incredulously. “You’re a horse. You have no idea what’s going on.” Llamrei whinnied in response, tossing her head back as she leapt over a fallen tree.

The Prince readjusted Merlin as they landed, gripping him so he wasn’t thrown forward with the impact. This was all absolutely batshit. In a mere forty-eight hours, Arthur had gone from largely unaware of who his soulmate might be to frantically clutching him as he bled out. A rose and two feathers his ass—Merlin’s soulmark was a golden crown wrapped in an olive branch, which, after the magical display his servant had put on, was undeniably symbolic of Arthur. He hadn’t meant to see it, but the mark was positioned over his friend's heart, just above where his chest had been slashed open by an angry chimera. The Prince had wrapped the wound to the best of his ability with his cloak, but he knew it only bought him a few hours at most. Merlin needed Gaius, not him.

Time was marked by the few moments his friend would wake up, shudder, and then pass out again. Sometimes he would attempt to string together words that ultimately made no sense, and one time he had managed a weak, “Sire?” before collapsing back against Llamrei’s mane, but for the most part he would just blink open his eyes before letting them fall shut again. It took too many of these moments for the citadel to come into view, and Llamrei began to slow as she recognized her surroundings and realized she was no longer in any immediate danger. “Just a little longer,” Arthur encouraged, squeezing her sides to get her back up to speed. The guards seemed surprised to see their Prince back so soon and riding alone but quickly got out of the way, the royal having showed no signs of slowing as he burst into the city at a dangerous clip. The sun was just breaking the horizon as he stumbled into Gaius’s chambers, chest heaving as he set Merlin down and the physician woke up in surprise. 

“My Lord, you are home earl—”

“Hewasslashedbyachimera,” Arthur managed, words running together as he gasped for air. “Merlin. He was attacked by a chimera. The rest of the knights are traveling as normal but I rode ahead, because he needs medical attention. Merlin does. Now.”

“Sire, you look like you’re going to pass out. If you can make it up the stairs you can sleep in Merlin’s bed—I'm sure he won't mind. If not, I have a stool you can at least sit on.” When the Prince didn’t move, Gaius sighed. “You and my apprentice are both ridiculous. He’ll be fine, but I need you out of my hair. Go take a nap, Arthur.” Arthur nodded slowly and staggered up to Merlin’s bedroom, barely managing to make it to his servant’s bed before collapsing into the deep sleep he so desperately needed.

* * *

Merlin had technically woken up several times before he actually woke up, each time feeling like he was going to die and having no idea where he was. Finding himself back in Gaius’s chambers was a relief, and he sighed contently. Camelot. The rest of knights must have gotten home safe as well, then. 

Camelot’s Crown Prince certainly had, because he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, staring down at his manservant with an unreadable expression. 

“Arthur!” Merlin cried out with relief, sitting up before realizing he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He frantically pulled up the blanket he was under to cover his soulmark, but his face fell as he watched the Pendragon’s eyes flick down to his chest and then back up to meet his gaze again, humorless. “Uh-”

“You lied to me,” the Prince started. “You _do_ know how to wield a sword.”

Merlin couldn’t tell if the feeling that washed over him was relief or confusion.

“You played me for a fool, really. You’re probably the most dangerous man in Camelot.” Ah, there it was. “And yet, you’re content to follow me around, wearing funny scarves and acting like a bumbling moron.”

“To be fair, my Lord, most of it isn’t acting,” Merlin tried. “I really am a moron. I just...alsohavemagic.”

“No shit.” After saying that, Arthur _laughed_ , and the warlock watched in great confusion as the Prince’s features relaxed. “I mean, Jesus Christ, Merlin, why the hell would a _Dragonlord_ , of all people, allow himself to be forced into servitude for the stuffy, magic-hating royal family of Camelot?”

“How did you—”

“I had a very long talk with Gaius while you were out, culminating in him laughing when I told him my soulmark was a dragon, because apparently it was very stupidly obvious to the both of you who my soulmate was.” He raised an eyebrow. “A rose and two feathers? Really?”

“What did you want me to tell you? That I had magic?” Merlin grumbled, still not quite sure what was going on because Arthur didn’t really seem all that angry about...anything, really. Just mildly annoyed at best, like he was chastising his servant for giving him breakfast late and not confronting his soulmate about being magic itself. 

“Well, yeah,” the Prince replied, bewildered. “I would’ve found out it was you eventually. I kind of already knew.”

“You’re overloading my tiny moron brain right now. What do you mean you ‘kind of already knew?’”

Arthur didn’t say anything, he just unfolded arms and shot the warlock a ‘Are you shitting me right now?’ kind of expression before walking over to sit next to him.

“Is there anything else I don’t know, oh great and powerful sorcerer?”

“No, because by the sounds of it Gaius told you my whole life story. Where’s the fun in that? Everyone needs a secret or two.” Arthur chuckled at that, and then Merlin furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, actually, did he tell you who Emrys is?”

“I’ve only ever heard that name from my father,” the Prince replied. “He’s supposedly some incredibly powerful sorcerer that’s supposed to cause his downfall, or something. I don’t know.

"'Or something' sounds about right."

"Wait a minute—no you’re not.” Merlin shrugged. “Good lord, Merlin. Seriously, why are you here?”

The warlock shrugged again. “I wanted to become Gaius’s apprentice, so I did. Becoming your servant was entirely unintentional, but I’m not mad about it. Anymore, anyway. Also, I have no idea where Uther pulled that idea, about me being evil. My only purpose as Emrys is to deliver you to kingship—okay, actually, I can see as how that might be seen as me having to kill Uther first—”

“Merlin!”

“I’m not going to! I’ve never considered it in my life, yeesh. Just explaining how your father might have come to that misinterpretation.” He laid back down, wincing and exhaling sharply as his chest protested the movement. Wait, holy shit, _his chest_. How was he even alive?

“Yeah, about that: I have no idea how it's healing so quickly. Gaius told me it has to do with your magic with a very matter-of-fact expression on his face, but I don't think he really understands it either. Oh, also, all of the other knights that were traveling with us know about your magic, too. It’s pretty hard for them to _not_ have figured it out, considering your big display and all.”

“It was only a matter of time. Lance already knew. So did Gwaine, which means Percival probably did also. When do I move out?”

“You’re leaving?”

“Your tone suggested my time here might be limited.”

“Oh. Well, no, you’re fine. You said everybody needs a secret or two, yeah? This is our collective secret from my father. Leon took the most convincing—mostly because he's a terrible liar—but he agreed to keep quiet, just as everyone else did.” Then, more lightheartedly, Arthur added, “You better not leave. You gave me a whole spiel about how finding my soulmate is my right just to leave me? Harsh.”

“I don’t know; my soulmate _is_ kind of a prat,” Merlin teased, moving over to make room for the prat in question to lay down next to him.

“Mine’s an ass with no respect for authority, so it all evens out I suppose,” Arthur replied, taking Merlin up on his unspoken offer and settling down next to him. “He also picks fights he definitely cannot win.” Suddenly, the Prince jolted upright. “You cheated!”

“I would never.”

“Oh, yes you would. We’re going to have a rematch for every game you’ve ever won, and I’m going to chase you through the city again. No magic allowed this time.”

“It wasn’t allowed the first time, my Lord. I hate to break this to you, but I might just be better than you at some things.”

“Hm, let me consider that.” Arthur rolled over so he could curl against the warlock’s side, eyes slipping shut as he did so. “Alright, I’ve considered it, and you’re wrong.”

“The King is going to come looking for you, you know.”

“Already gave ‘m a report. Now, I’m going to bed, to prove to you that at the very least that I’m better than you at sleeping.”

“Right here?”

“Mhm.”

Merlin began to absentmindedly play with Arthur’s hair, given that his arm was now trapped under the Prince’s side and he couldn’t do much else with it. 

“Goodnight then, Arthur.”

"'Night, Merlin."

**Author's Note:**

> before ANYONE comes for me i am very aware that, aside from basic anatomy, i pretty much bullshitted my way through the chimera bit. do they thirst for magic? idk but i thought the concept was interesting, so there. i wrote this to try and get over my writer's block (and because i randomly had a hankering for a soulmate au) so it isn't stellar but i hope you enjoyed it regardless!  
> (also, yes, percival and gwaine ARE soulmates and if i had had a braincell while writing this i would've included that somewhere lol)  
> 🌿🌿🌿  
> if you wanna send me prompts on my tumblr, i would be more than honored! @bottledbas1l


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